


Muddy Waters

by dork_knight



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alfred Deserves A Break, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Tragedy, Barbara Is Not Ra's' Heir Here Because WTF Was That, F/M, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Jim Gordon Doesn't Follow Rules, Selina Has An Existential Crisis, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-10-16 13:10:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17550305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dork_knight/pseuds/dork_knight
Summary: Tabitha's betrayal ends up having bigger consequences than anyone could have imagined.(In which Bruce Wayne dies, Selina blames herself and nobody is willing to let the kid rest in peace.)Canon divergence - S04E19.





	1. i

****When Tabitha was younger, she was told to have a natural talent for motherhood. The men of the Order of St. Dumas — those old, obsessed men — loved to tell her that. They would come to take her brother away and they would compliment her on how caring she could be, how nice, how soft. As if she didn't pack a punch better than Theo could ever dream to, as if _soft_ was all she was.

 

For that, Tabitha made a point to sneer at them every time they opened their mouths.

 

But she was never able to prove their words wrong. She tried, for sure. Yet, Silver begged for protection; Selina, for a teacher. “I want more,” the girl had said, right before showing impressive skill with a whip, and suddenly there Tabitha was, watching over another stray.

 

She was motherly, after all. Soft. That was her flaw; the reason she had her hand cut off her body for Butch and the reason she was betrayed so many times by Barbara, despite knowing better.

 

Selina was a lot like her, in that sense. Tabitha noticed it as soon as she took the girl in. There were a lot of people who made her weak — and they weren’t too hard to figure out. Her mother was a rather obvious one. So was Bruce Wayne, if the constant whining about him and his 'friends’ were anything to go by.

 

God, it drove Tabitha crazy; the mommy issues, the boy trouble, the open vulnerability. (If she could, she would smother all of it with her bare hands.) But she was way past not caring about the kid.

 

Truth was, there was nothing she wouldn't do to keep her from harm.

 

Nothing.

 

* * *

 

“So, what’s the emergency?”

 

Tabitha took a deep breath and nodded towards the door of the old church. “Inside.”

 

She started moving and Selina soon followed, but Bruce remained fixed to the spot where he stood, frowning.

 

“You coming?”

 

They all walked in, being met with pitch black darkness. The room was cold and — if you asked Selina — felt a lot like one of those freaky haunted houses in the Narrows; just _off,_ somehow.

 

“Tabitha, what am I doing here?”

 

In the span of seconds, there was light. Three men made themselves known under the yellow glow of recently lit fire, standing in the once holy altar. Hands grabbed at Bruce from behind, pulling at his coat, shirt and arms, driving him onward. The boy fought back, kicking and screaming and making stuff a damn lot harder.

 

Tabitha sighed. “Wait.” She held Selina by the arms to keep her from helping him.

 

“What the hell!” Bruce yelled, “What is this?”

 

“I don’t know,” Selina explained, also struggling, “She didn’t tell me this part.”

 

“It's Barbara. She's been messing with this thing called the League of Shadows."

 

Bruce stopped. “This is about Ra’s Al Ghul?”

 

“Some of his people are following _her_ now." Tabitha turned towards Selina. “These guys want to make things right again."

 

“Okay, so why do you need Bruce?” Selina asked, eyes big and wide.

 

Tabitha didn't care to answer. She simply tightened her hold on the girl, leaving bruises in her wake and overpowering her entirely. _It's for your own good,_ she thought, _there is no telling what these creeps might do if you lose it, Selina._

 

The brothers of the League that stood in the altar stepped forward, summoning the ones holding Bruce to do the same. In the very middle of the church lied a sarcophagus, where they all came to face a rotting corpse. At the sight, Bruce gasped, becoming wild again.

 

“You’re going to bring him back,” he said, “You can’t do this, Ra’s wanted to die. He wanted me to kill him!”

 

His words proved themselves to be in vain.  

 

The man opposite to him, whose eyes were cold and empty, lifted his right arm with calculated precision; in his hand, a long, sharp knife. His lips tugged into a merciless smile. “And now we need him alive.”

  
“No!”

 

Tabitha took her eyes off the scene, focusing intensely on the sensation of her fingers gripping harder and harder on faux-leather, on trying to keep a teenager in check and whatever doubt she had out of her head. Selina, unfortunately, didn’t maintain the same ironclad composure.

 

“Wait! What are you—” She screamed.

 

The men didn’t wait, hitting the boy in the back of the head, his body going soft as he verged on losing consciousness.

 

“Bruce!”

 

He fell to his knees, upper body being held up by cruel hands.

 

“Stop it.” Selina growled, swinging her head back, trying to hit Tabitha —  trying to hurt her. “Let. Me. Go!”

 

His hair was gripped tight, hurling his head back and exposing his throat. They started to chant in arabic.

 

“Don’t—” Selina begged in a whisper. Yet, the knife slit skin open, a river of blood running out of the wound and dripping over dead flesh, and Bruce dropped to the floor, unmoving.

 

Tabitha released her at last.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Sorry.


	2. ii

_The birthday cake was divine. It looked bland, at first, but when you ate it, it tasted sweet and addicting, despite being a weird flavor that Selina couldn’t really guess. She was on her second piece already and couldn't help thinking that it fitted Bruce, who was still missing his lame excuse for a party, by the way._

 

_It’d been hours since he’d followed Gordon and Fox straight into a hostage situation, with no guarantee that he’d be okay, just so that the GCPD would have a shot at arresting Jerome. Again. Choosing today for another terrorist attack was such a douchebag move. Why couldn’t the freak raise hell any other day of the year?_

 

_Selina sighed._

 

_The news had ended a while ago, a scared reporter announcing the temporary end of madness in Gotham. Apparently, Jerome had died, half of the hostages too, but Bruce and Jerome’s brother – yeah, he was a real thing – were alright. Which was why Alfred and her were still sitting together in the kitchen, way past dark, waiting for the only thing they had in common to come home._

 

_(Selina had considered leaving earlier, but she’d given that up when Alfred took the cake out of the fridge where he’d put it and served each of them another piece. A year ago, he wouldn’t have let her touch it and, a year ago, she had been too angry to be worrying about Bruce, so maybe they were both changing.)_

 

_Surprisingly, the silence wasn’t as awkward or as tense as she thought it’d be. Selina was almost comfortable with it when muffled sounds started to come from inside the house; opening door locks and tired footsteps._

 

_“Do you hear that?” Alfred asked, standing up._

 

_She didn’t even have the time to answer before Bruce walked into the kitchen. He looked worse for wear than in the early afternoon, his hair all messy and his clothes crumpled. Within seconds, he was caught in a bone-crushing hug from Alfred. “It’s good to see you again, mate.”_

 

_Bruce smiled lightly against his shoulder. “You too, Alfred.” His eyes ran across the room, widening just a bit at the sight of the girl sitting by the counter. “Selina.”_

 

_“Uh, I had to stay or I wasn’t getting another piece of cake,” she explained, cursing herself for sounding so unconvincing._

 

_“Right.” He didn’t seem to believe her, but kept quiet anyway, definitely amused. Selina made sure to stare straight at him, resisting the urge to squirm, until Alfred cleared his throat._

 

_“Are you hungry, Master B?”_

 

_“I could eat.”_

 

_“Very well,”  Alfred said, crossing the room. He quickly made a grilled sandwich, cut another piece of cake and poured a glass of milk. Then, he yawned loudly. Too loudly for it to be real. “If you two don’t mind, I’ll retire myself for the night.”_

 

_Bruce frowned, somehow managing to keep a straight face. “Goodnight, Alfred.”_

 

_The old man smirked before he walked away and Selina chuckled, bewildered at the threatics. She turned towards Bruce, who was currently munching on a piece of bread, lost in his own head._

 

_“You okay?” she asked, genuinely worried._

 

_“Yes,” he answered, nodding lightly, “It was just a lot in one day.”_

 

_God, that was a freaking understatement. Still, Selina agreed. “That’s one hell of a birthday, B.”_

 

_Suddenly, Bruce stopped eating, gazing fondly at her._

 

_She gave him a funny look, raising her eyebrows. “What?”_

 

_“You hadn’t called me this in a long time,” he answered, beaming._

 

_Slowly, he leaned in until his nose was almost bumping into hers, giving it a moment before sealing their lips together. The kiss was calm and tender; soft licking and light biting. They parted and Bruce kissed her cheek next, nuzzled her neck, his warm breath stupidly pleasant against her skin._

 

_“Crap.”_

 

* * *

 

Selina could hear people arguing somewhere in the church. There was angry yelling – the dead guy didn’t seem freaking happy to be back – and then the sound of another body hitting the floor. Since Tabitha was still behind her, it just had to be one of his men.

 

Good, she thought. She wanted them to die.

 

Her legs hurt from kneeling in cold stone, but she wouldn’t move, still in the same position she'd been since Tabitha backed off, turned towards Bruce. He was dead; his body, limp and covered in blood that’d spread everywhere. The people a few feet away from her had killed him, despite his begging, despite his age. They’d slit his throat in front of her. They’d _used her_ to get him here. They’d...

 

Selina closed her eyes, pressing them shut, hard. But, just like so many times before, she opened them up a heartbeat later, meeting Bruce’s cold, vacant ones and feeling her gut churn. Her hand came up to cover her mouth, dirtying her glove with tears and snot, rubbing her cheeks violently to make it stop, to make herself stop. What she truly wanted was for them to pay; yet, self-preservation stopped her from doing anything but clenching her jaw until it hurt.

 

 _What chance do I even have? What good am I going to do getting killed too?_ It was that little voice that’d stuck with her since she’d found out that ruthlessness was what it took to survive in the world, the one that controlled her that night in Crime Alley and every other night of her life. She hated it, sometimes. But that didn’t mean that she would ever _not_ listen to it, even now. So, she waited.

 

At some point, the men – Ra’s something, that’s what Bruce had called him, and the others – walked past her, straight to the exit, leaving the church. Selina glared at them, in this moment, trying to commit their faces to memory. Ra’s looked human again, nothing like the old bag of bones and rotten flesh she’d seen at first. For a second, he stared at Bruce and Selina could almost swear she saw something close to fondness and sorrow there. It only made her will to stab him stronger.

 

The big wooden doors closed behind her and she breathed deeply before standing up, pinching the bridge of her nose. She felt Tabitha’s presence behind her, but didn’t turn around.

 

“Let’s go.”

 

Instead of listening, Selina stepped forward towards Bruce’s body, stopping when she felt Tabitha grip her shoulder.

 

“Don’t touch me!” she snapped, slapping the hand off of her.

 

“C’mon. We don’t need to do this.”

 

“Yes, we do!” Selina shook her head. “Bruce is dead and it’s your fault."

 

“I was looking out for you, you ungrateful little brat.”

 

“How the fuck was this looking out for me, Tabitha?”

 

“The League is pissed, okay,” she said, “They were threatening us, if I didn’t get the kid here.”

 

_Was this supposed to make me feel thankful?_

"You could have told me.”

 

“You wouldn’t have brought him here.”

 

“Of course not,” Selina argued, “He’s my friend!”

 

 _“Was._ ”

 

Tabitha went quiet and Selina flung herself at the woman. Her movements were clouded by agony, though, and she only got one good kick in before Tabitha got leverage over her with a punch. Selina could feel the side of her face burn, definitely cut.

 

“You picked a side when you chose to be a siren, Selina. You don’t get to huff and puff now.”

 

“I never chose this,” she hissed, “Bruce didn’t have to die.”

 

“Says you.”

 

“Shut up!”

 

“No, you shut up. We have no business staying here. Let’s go.” Tabitha pointed to the exit.

 

“And what do you suggest,” Selina said, voice breaking, “We just leave him here?”

 

“Someone will find him eventually.” Tabitha shrugged. “They always do.”

 

Selina winced at her words. It was un-freaking-believable. They couldn’t just leave him. “No.”

 

“What?”

 

“You heard me. I’m doing this _my way._ ”

 

Going along with Tabitha now was so, so messed up and Selina couldn’t do it. Anything – however stupid – would be better. She had no idea what she _could_ do, though, and it must have been written all over her because it didn’t go unnoticed.

 

“What, you’re going to call the butler and tell him?”

 

“Tabitha, I want to _murder_ you right now” she growled, “Don’t. Push. Me.”

 

God, the thought alone of dealing with Alfred exasperated her so much. Tabitha sighed, before shaking her head and walking away. She stopped by the door, glaring at Selina one last time. “This is a mistake.”

 

“At least this one will be my choice,” Selina whispered, “Unlike getting Bruce killed.”

 

* * *

 

Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t come up with a plan. No matter how much Selina thought, nothing made sense. Not even what’d already happened. In the end, all she did was sit next to Bruce for an hour and cry, pathetically. She hadn’t been like this since Bridget, since her mom, but how was she supposed to react?

 

Until Tabitha had left, she hadn’t gotten close to him and, somehow, that’d made it less real, even though Selina had never given herself the luxury of denial. Touching him was a well-deserved slap to the face. She could swear he was becoming cold already and just– his body wasn’t anything like Bruce earlier that day.

 

She needed to do something, call someone. Someone that’d come to the church and take care of him, because she needed to leave; she needed space from all this mess, but she couldn’t leave him alone either.

 

Breathing in slowly, Selina went through her options again. It couldn’t be Alfred. _How would I even…_ He would lose it and she really didn’t want to be there to see it. The GCPD would blame and arrest her, for sure, unless it was Gordon. _But, Gordon would lose it too, wouldn’t him?_ Everyone in the freaking city was a parental figure to the kid. _Okay, think._ There was someone else. Her only choice.

 

Selina took her phone out of her pocket, turning the screen on and trying to figure out what to say when people came to her for answers — because they would. Sorry had always been good enough for Bruce, but it wouldn’t be for anyone else.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think!


	3. iii

Harvey Bullock wasn’t helpful and everybody knew it; his friends, his hook-ups and every last GCPD partner he’d ever had — including Jim I-only-see-the-best-in-people Gordon. He wasn’t the almighty hero, he was the grumpy sidekick who only ever saved the world out of pure obligation, whining the entire goddamn time, because he couldn’t let his brother-in-arms get himself killed by doing it alone. _This_ was public knowledge.

 

So, when Harper told him they’d gotten a call about a crime scene and that the person on the other side of the line had asked for him, it didn’t make any sense. At least, not before he knew what the crime was.

 

“Christ,” Harvey muttered, “Tell me that’s not Bruce Wayne.”

 

He removed his hat, pressing it against his chest. The whole scenario reminded him of that night five years prior, when Thomas and Martha Wayne were murdered and he unwillingly took over the case. The cold night air, the disgustingly metallic smell of blood, the panic of knowing exactly the kind of circus that was about to follow... It was all playing on repeat. Only, this time, there was no traumatized boy sitting by the firescape; instead, the kid was lying on the ground, just as dead as his parent were.

 

Harper’s shoulders slumped. “That’s Bruce Wayne.”

 

“Shit,” Harvey swore, crouching to take a closer look at the body.

 

“This is a mess. Want me to call the coroner?”

 

“No, not yet.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because as soon the coroner arrives,” he said, “the whole city will know.”

 

“It’s procedure, we can’t go over it,” she argued and Harvey sighed. Sometimes, Harper made Jim look _wild,_ even in his early days.

 

“Yeah, okay. Call Guerra, but on his cell and tell him not to tell anyone and not to let Fox anywhere _near_ the body. Otherwise, I’ll have a talk with his wife.”

 

Harper squinted. “Really?”

 

“Yes, really. If he didn’t want me to use this against him, he shouldn’t have cheated. Or told me.”

 

Besides, he had more important matters in his hands. Screw morality.

 

“Got it.” She stared him down for a second, eyes softening when she saw his hand on the dead boy’s shoulder. “You okay?”

 

“I just—,” he started, “I’ve known this kid since he was twelve.”

 

Even though they were never close, Harvey had dealt with Bruce for so long. The boy had always been right up the cops’ business; worrying about Jim, trying to act older than his years and putting himself in danger. Harvey had seen the kid grow, grow like a freaking weed.

 

“I hate this city,” Harper stated.

 

“We all do.” He got up, knees cracking. “Who gave us the tip?”

 

“Whoever it was didn’t leave a name.”

 

“Great.”

 

“But it was a girl.”

 

“A girl?” Harvey asked.

 

“Yes, I could tell because of the voice,” Harper said, “Young, too, if I’m not mistaken.”

 

It wasn’t much, but at least they didn’t have to say they were empty handed.

 

“Stay here until Guerra arrives.”

 

“What about you?”

 

Harvey put his hat back on. “I'm gonna tell Jim.”

 

* * *

 

There was an indentation in the shape of a fist in one of the walls of the captain’s office. It’d been there since Harvey became a cop and, seeing as Gotham was a garbage can, nobody had ever had the money or the will to fix it. When Jim found out Bruce was dead, he punched the very same wall. Twice. Now, it looked more like swiss cheese than a fine piece of a two-hundred-year-old building.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

‘Yes. I saw him.”

 

Jim rubbed his mouth, eyes becoming wet with tears.

 

It was in days like this that Harvey convinced himself that life simply wasn’t worth it, most of the time. Some things — such as friends, sex and free alcohol — made life bearable, but nothing could make it _worth it._  There was just too much senseless crap in the world for it to be possible.

 

“I’m sorry.” Having to tell your best friend these kind of things was particularly bitter. Yet, Harvey was always doing it.

 

“It’s not like he was my kid,” Jim choked out.

 

_Hey, Jim, your baby is gone._

 

“We’re gonna find whoever did this.”

 

_Hey, Jim, Lee is gone._

 

“Five years go, I told Bruce I would find his parents’ killer. I didn’t.”

 

“That’s a lie,” Harvey argued, “you found Strange.”

 

 Jim shook his head. 

 

_I'm just as corrupt as the guys you hate._

 

"We shouldn’t make promises we can’t keep,” he said, “But someone _will_ pay.”

 

* * *

 

Harvey really hoped this was the last of it; “this” being everything that happened since he decided to follow the freaking anonymous tip and “it” being the shit Gotham never failed to deliver. However, he knew nothing would ever be _the last of it._ There was always more and things could always be worse. Which was why as soon as Jim had shown the want to be left alone to mourn, he’d charged himself with the task of brewing the strongest, most repulsive coffee the GCPD had to offer and filling two stupidly big mugs to the brim with it. They were a must if Jim and him were to get through the night.

 

Slowly, he climbed the stairs, careful not to spill the coffee, up to the top. Jim was still in the office, visible through glass, a phone stuck to his ear and his face contorted in sorrow and frustration. He hung up, moving sluggishly, and Harvey pushed the door open with his leg, stepping into the room.

 

“Who was it?” he probed, offering one of the mugs. Jim accepted it, swallowing the liquid without his usual grimace.

 

“Alfred.”

 

“Wait, you told him over the phone?!” Harvey asked, frowning.

 

“He knew something was wrong, wouldn’t take no for an answer.” Jim sighed. “He didn’t believe me.”

 

“About what?”

 

“Bruce,” he grumbled, “He thinks we’re wrong.”

 

Harvey's first instinct was to deny the very possibility any sort of mistake on their part. He’d seen the crime scene and some things couldn’t be contested. But, lately, he’d been trying to work on his sensibility — whatever was left of it. So, he kept quiet.

 

“There’s been so many close calls over the years,” Jim continued, “he’s convinced this is just another one of them.”

 

“In his defense, people don’t stay dead in Gotham.”

 

“Good people do.”

 

Now, _this_ was something Harvey couldn’t disagree on. Whatever it was that gave the local loonies seven lives didn’t do the same to everyone else.

 

“Guess he’s coming here to yell at you, then,” he said.

 

Jim nodded sparingly. “Yes.”  There were dark circles under his eyes and his eyelids were slightly swollen. “I don’t think he’ll believe Bruce’s gone unless he sees it,” he said.

 

“Well, the body isn’t here yet.”

 

“Still?” Jim asked. “It’s been hours.”

 

Harvey shrugged. Knowing Guerra, he probably hadn’t even gotten to the scene yet, specially since he thought it was just another random citizen. Before Jim could react, the door to the captain’s office opened, a distressed british man rushing inside.

 

“Oh, there you are!”

 

Jim detached himself from his desk, where he’d been leaning on. “Alfred.”

 

“Captain Gordon.”

 

The three men stood still, uncomfortably so. Alfred raised his eyebrows and Harvey saw Jim swallow roughly.

 

“I’ll let you two talk,” he said, stepping back.

 

“Stay,” Jim pleaded. He look at Harvey anxiously.  “You know more about the case than I do.”

 

Alfred huffed. “Can the two of you please explain to me what is the absolute nonsense you’ve been telling me?”

 

Glancing sideways at his ex-partner, Jim showed Alfred to the one of the chairs in the room. The man was hesitant, but sat down eventually, unbuttoning his suit jacket. Jim breathed in deep before talking.

 

“The GCPD got a tip on a murder scene. While investigating, Harvey found Bruce’s body. His throat was slit. Then, he left his new partner waiting for the coroner and came here to let me know.”

 

Alfred looked around the room, seeming startled. “Very well,” he began, voice rising, “This is not bloody possible.”

 

“I’m sorry.” A single tear ran down Jim’s face, leaving a stain on his cheek. It only made for more despair, though, as Alfred lifted himself up from the chair and came to stand behind it, his hands clasped tightly against the backrest; knuckles turning white.

 

“Master Bruce left the manor with Miss Kyle earlier this night. They were going to the cinema, like normal teenagers,” he said, “I don’t see a reason for them to have lied to me and I don’t understand how a date between the two could have ended in my boy’s death.”

 

Alfred shook for a moment, betraying the confident demeanor his voice had unbelievably shown, and for the first time, Harvey saw him for what he truly was. Beneath his strict posture and overwhelmingly protective nature, Alfred was nothing more than an old, worn out war-dog who didn’t really have much in life. He was the future of every man in Gotham who’d once dreamed of being a hero. Just like Jim. Just like himself.

 

“My boy— is not dead,” he bargained, “He can’t be.”

 

Harvey lowered his head. “My partner said that whoever gave us the tip was a girl. Young.”

 

“I understand why you may not want to believe it,” Jim said, “But the girl is most likely Selina.” Alfred frowned sadly and Jim didn’t let himself stop to consider what the action might mean. “They lied to you. I don’t know why, but they did.”

 

“We can take you to the scene if you want,” Harvey intervened.

 

Alfred set his shoulders straight. “And why would we do that, mate?”

 

“Because Bruce’s body is probably still there,” Jim answered. It was the truth, though he couldn’t yet explain why. “We’ll take you to see him and then we’re gonna find Selina and get this puzzle right.”

 

“I suppose that’s only fair.”

 

* * *

 

Jim drove, while Harvey sat in the back of the car so that Alfred could take the passenger seat. The silence was stifling; nobody said a word or spoke their mind. Normally, Harvey would already have started telling inappropriate jokes. But, again, he kept his mouth shut, which meant _nothing_ happened. Jim stared vacantly at empty streets and Alfred only ever shifted on his seat, restless. If you asked Harvey, he could either still be in denial or he could be a second away from breaking down and wrecking everything on his path because Harvey wasn’t crazy and he knew what he’d seen and Bruce Wayne truly was dead.

 

He was.

 

When they got to the church, though, his body was gone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short story is: I got mugged on monday and the guy took my phone, which meant I couldn't post this chapter on time. I'll make it up to you guys, I promise.


	4. iv

Selina didn’t leave right away. Bullock and his lady-partner certainly took their sweet time getting there, but she hid herself in one of the dark corners of the church and waited until they strolled through the front door, found the body and talked it out.

 

She wanted to be sure they wouldn’t do anything bad like calling the press or taking pictures and selling them to the press… Bullock might have been Gordon’s buddy but Selina barely knew him and it’d been a huge leap of faith to ask for him, so she had to make sure he wouldn’t screw things up even more.

 

Thankfully, the cops seemed to be doing an okay job, for once, and she sneaked out through the back just as Bullock left through the front door.

 

(His partner stayed and that made Selina a little less guilty. Bruce's body wouldn’t be alone and it wouldn't be left to rot and be found weeks later by randoms, at least. Fighting Tabitha had been worth something, it’d made _some_ difference.)

 

All of this, though, meant that it was already really late by the time Selina even realized she’d have to find somewhere to crash.

 

The streets were dark and empty around her; the cold february air, suffocating. Staying outside wasn't an option. Yet, she couldn’t just go back to her place at the Sirens’ club. Her blood still boiled with rage and she needed to be far, far away from Tabitha. From everyone, actually.

 

Selina knew sooner rather than later, she’d have to face people. Alfred, most likely. Gordon too. They’d find out and go after the last person to be seen with Bruce. Her. But she needed to postpone that, even if not for long. Just until she didn’t have Bruce’s blood all over her hands and her face didn’t give away her feelings and there was no chance of her being dragged to the GCPD.

 

Which was another reason why she couldn’t go back to the club.

 

_That’s the first place where they'd look for me._

 

At the thought, Selina made sure to walk faster, unsticking her hair from her semi-dry cheeks. Her feet led her at their own will, striding in the direction of one of the buildings she used to squat in.

 

It was the same one she’d once shared with Bruce, back when he’d been fourteen and she’d been fifteen. It felt like ages ago and Selina forced herself to remember that only three and a half years had passed since they’d explored the city together, robbing criminals and surviving on one cheap meal a day.

 

Bruce had been different then. Traumatized, sure. But lighter and free.

 

And Selina had been happier too.

 

Either way, the place was a dump. Now, even more than before. There was a thick layer of dust coating everything within Selina’s reach and it smelled like old people.

 

Some things were nice, though. Her old blankets didn't look like they been moved since she left — so nobody had been using them — and being there brought up a few good memories.

 

Suppressing a sob, Selina dropped to the ugly old couch in the living room area. She was exhausted and angry and just… done. Done with Gotham and it’s freaks and honestly herself. _This always happens,_ she thought, _you get attached and then people die or go crazy or die and_ _then_ _go crazy._

 

_Why the hell did you think Bruce would be any different?_

 

She didn’t even know what was worse, that maybe she’d had a hand on all these messed up things or that she’d let herself get sucked into them again and again, because she obviously never learned, no matter how much she yelled at people that she didn’t care.

 

And she shouldn’t care.

 

Selina had warned Bruce several times about what would happen if he kept sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. She’d warned him about Silver and Galavan, about Matches and even the freaking Court of Owls. She’d come embarrassingly close to begging when it came to his obsession with catching Jerome Valeska.

 

 _Just don’t take so much responsibility that you get yourself killed,_ she’d said and it just hadn’t been enough. ‘Cause it never was. Nobody ever freaking listened to her.

 

But that was a lie, wasn’t it? Bruce listened to her. Selina had asked him for help, again, and of course he’d gone along with it, he always did.

 

It was so stupid.

 

She’d asked him for help because Tabitha and Barbara, crazy as they might have been, _felt_ like family, even if they weren’t. And they'd been this close to either falling apart or getting killed and Selina hadn’t even known any details but she’d known enough to be scared of losing them.

 

For months, Barbara had been all over the place, meaner than usual, and Tabitha had been worried enough to ignore just how badly she was being treated. It was serious stuff.

 

So, when Selina was told that there was something called the League Of Shadows and that Barbara had tried to fuck with them but was actually in over her head and needed as much help as she could get, she’d run to Bruce.

 

_Who else, right?_

 

She didn’t know he had anything to do with the League. Tabitha didn't even to do scrap to get her to bring him along. It was just… She always ran to him.

 

But she really shouldn't have. Reckless as he was, Bruce never would have gotten involved in Barbara’s shit and given the League a shot at him if it weren’t for her.

 

He wouldn’t have had any reason to.

 

* * *

 

The morning after, Selina woke up to a cat softly headbutting her shoulder. She groaned and buried her face in the couch cushions, thinking about how she really should have seen it coming. After all, they’d always had a way of finding her.

 

“Go away!”

 

Her mouth tasted bitter as she definitely hadn’t brushed her teeth and her cheek throbbed — a reminder of Tabitha’s mean left hook.

 

She really didn't feel like being awake.

 

Usually, sleep wasn’t that big of a deal for her. She would stay up throughout the night and then nap for a few hours during the day. This time, though, it was different. Her brain wouldn’t shut up and being asleep was the only way Selina knew to stop having terrible thoughts, to stop hurting. She rarely ever dreamed and that emptiness, that quiet was exactly what she needed.

 

It’d been hard to doze off, though, and her unwanted company — who had started meowing nonstop — was making it impossible for her to do so again.

 

Begrudgingly, Selina sat up, knocking the cat off balance. It finally got the message and scrambled, but it was too late and her body was ready to start the day. Since she’d never gotten around to shut the curtains, she could see exactly how bright it was outside and couldn’t help but wonder about the time.

 

Her phone was still off — had been since the call to the GCPD — and there was just no way of telling. It could be early morning and it could be mid-afternoon. The sun had already been rising when she managed to fall asleep, though, and she doubted she’d been out for long.

 

While Selina became lost in her own head, the angry sound of strong knocks on a metal door spreaded through the room. She jumped slightly at the noise, shifting on the couch to sit cross-legged, ears perking up. It couldn’t be just a random. What were the odds?

 

She should leave again. Some hours weren’t enough. There was still blood caught underneath her fingernails and her face was probably a mess; bruised and swollen and red. No chance she could deal with the questions, the accusations and the brutal slap to the face she’d probably get.

 

It’d be pretty selfish, though. Cops were clueless, Alfred could be clueless too. They wouldn’t find leads unless she told them who did it. And if she took too long, then the League and Ra’s might disappear.

 

Bruce would hate that: bad guys free to roam, to hurt, to destroy. Unrestrained. Selina would hate it too, but for other reasons. She wanted them to be ripped apart.

 

_Well, it was selfish to leave the first time, wasn’t it?_

 

It was, but so was Selina. Always.

 

There were so many times where she could have done more but didn’t because it was safer not to. Easier.

 

Selina owned Bruce. She did.

 

“Miss Kyle?!”

 

_Shit._

 

It was Alfred.

 

_Shit. Shit._

 

“I know you’re in there.”

 

Selina sighed.

 

_Alright, then._

 

She got up and slid the door open.

 

Alfred looked like death warmed over. It wasn’t so much about his rumpled clothes and paper-white skin as it was about the set to his shoulders and the look in his eyes. Weak, defeated; yet, a little mad, buzzing with nervous energy.

 

It was unsettling and Selina frowned. The man simply stared back at her for a while.

 

“Will you invite me in or am I supposed to stand here like a sitting duck?” he asked.

 

Selina stepped aside, pinching her lips and gesturing for him to go ahead. She sat on the back of the couch this time, her socked feet resting against the cushions. That was so _weird_ and draining and—

 

“So, it's true, then?”

 

Alfred had stopped in front of her. For a second, something bitter inside of her almost snapped. ‘ _Is it true?’_ _What part of Bruce with his head half cut off leaves any doubt?_ But she choked it down.

 

Selina nodded.

 

“And you are sure that it wasn’t that bloody clone of his? Nobody is playing us?”

 

“Yes."

 

Alfred cursed, suddenly panting, and rushed to the couch. He leaned against his knees and hid his face in his hands, shaking as he bawled with the force of parent who’d just lost a child. It was a sorry image and Selina tried not squirm as her eyes burned.

 

Anger and disgust from him; that, she expected. Not this.

 

As uncomfortable as it was for her, though, it must have been worse for him, because he became annoyed, swallowing his tears and turning to face her. “How…”

 

“I don't know.”

 

“You don't know?” he barked, angering Selina.

 

“I don't.” She shrugged. “Barbara got herself in trouble so I asked Bruce for help, but when we got there it was him they wanted.”

 

Alfred stopped. “ _Who_ wanted Bruce?”

 

“The League of Shadows,” Selina said, unsure, as she tried to remember Tabitha’s words. “They used his blood to bring this dude back to life, Ra's—”

 

“Ra's Al Ghul."

 

“Yeah, Bruce knew who he was too. He also said he was the one who killed him, so what's that about?”

 

“You wouldn't understand.”

 

“Try me.”

 

“Ra's Al Ghul is a sadistic, bloody sociopath,” Alfred began. “He calls himself the Demon's Head; his _league_ is made up of assassins, terrorists.”

 

“Then why did Bruce have anything to do with him?”

 

“He was the one controlling the Court of Owls; his people, they're the ones responsible for kidnapping Bruce, replacing him, trying to bomb the city.”

 

Selina crossed her arms, hugging herself.

 

“His parents?” she asked.

 

“Not directly, I think. But it never would have happened if it wasn't for him.”

 

They shut up, letting that sink in. If it wasn’t for this one person, their lives would be completely different. Bruce would have walked into that alley and he wouldn’t have come out an orphan. He and Selina never would have met. He’d be alive, normal. Alfred never would have been more than his butler.

 

“Months ago,” he continued, “we found out Ra's wanted this embalming knife, but Bruce didn't want to let him have it, so he bought it.”

 

“I know that part. I was supposed to get it for Barbara.”

 

“Yes, she was bloody desperate for it back then. We figured Ra’s was using her as a proxy.”

 

 _So, that’s how Barbara got involved,_ Selina thought. Ra’s had been the ‘pretty powerful guy’ that was after the knife. She understood why Bruce hadn’t given it to her when she asked for it, now.

 

“Why did Bruce kill him?”

 

“Ra's wanted him to.”

 

Selina raised her eyebrows, confused.

 

“He believes Bruce is his heir,” Alfred explained, “that my boy will take his place in the league one day.”

 

“That's insane! Bruce would never—”

 

“I know that.” He waved his hands around. “But there is a— a prophecy. Ra's is immortal, the only way for him to die is the embalming knife and only if his heir is the one wielding it.”

 

_Shit._

 

Selina snorted involuntarily, only afterwards noticing how inappropriate it must seemed to the englishman.

 

“Well, excuse you.”

 

“Sorry,” she said, “It’s just…  It had to be him, right?”

 

_Of all the freaking people._

 

Alfred visibly relaxed, seeing what might have amused her in such a screwed-up moment. “Yes. It had to.”

 

* * *

 

“Why are you here, Alfred?”

 

They’d been there for a while, in the same room. Selina had gone to the kitchen for a glass of tap water and she’d kind of expected him to go away in the meantime — quick and clean — but he hadn’t. She was starting to feel uneasy, not knowing why. It couldn’t be for her presence, for sure; she’d been called many things in her life and comforting wasn’t one of them.

 

Selina tilted her head. “Don't you have more important stuff to do?”

 

Her words came out harsher than intended and Alfred huffed.

 

“His body was taken.”

 

“ _What?!_ But the cops—” she argued, stopping mid-sentence at how stupid she sounded.

 

_The cops! Seriously._

 

Of course they’d fucked up.

 

“I waited,” Selina said roughly, “Until they got there, I waited so that something like this wouldn't happen.”

 

What if people were doing something horrible to his body? It was Gotham, someone could be cutting his face off or worse. She grimaced, trying not to picture it. For the first time, Alfred looked at her with pity.

 

“Well, Harvey’s partner got killed by whoever did it. He and Jim are out there looking for leads, for you too.”

 

“Then how did you find me first?”

 

He hesitated, picking his words. “It is not _unusual_ to go someplace that reminds you of a friend when they die. This is where you and Master Bruce stayed when he lived with you.”

 

“That’s not why I’m here.”

 

“Yes, it bloody is,” Alfred spat. “Bruce is gone,” he said, “I think it’s time you quit pretending not to care for him.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bigger than usual. I'm not sure I like it, though. Tell me what you think!


	5. v

The thing was, not a lot of people knew Selina. In fact, most people didn’t know a thing about her. And that was something to be proud of, something she’d _been_ proud of her whole life. If people didn’t know her, they couldn’t claim her for themselves, couldn’t get attached, couldn’t even call her out on anything because they wouldn’t know how.

 

Being a mystery — something that twisted people into knots — was a huge part of being free. But, as she was starting to notice, Selina wasn’t all that puzzling anymore. Not to Tabitha. Not to freaking Alfred.

 

 _I think it’s time you quit pretending not to care for him,_ he’d said and, suddenly, she’d felt nauseous.

 

By the glint in his eyes, Alfred could have dropped a bigger bomb, but held himself back like a champ. Selina hated it — hated him, for a moment. Any other day, she’d have shaken her head and left. Nobody told her how she felt. She didn’t want to, though. That’d be putting up a front, again, and Selina just needed to be herself for a bit.

 

Besides, bailing was exactly what he expected her to do.

 

“Fine.”

 

Alfred took a step back, dumbfounded. “Fine?”

 

Selina nodded, zipping up her leather jacket and searching for her boots. “I’ll help you find him,” she said.

 

“Very well. Let’s go, then.”

 

They climbed down the stairs of the building all the way to the ground floor; Alfred leading while Selina followed right behind, whip tightly secured to her waist. The Narrows was empty, if not for a crappy food truck and she had no trouble locating Alfred’s black shiny car parked on the other side of the street. Surprisingly, nobody had stolen it.

 

She clutched the door knob, ready to slip into the passenger seat, but Alfred stopped her, pointing towards the back.

 

“Seriously?”

 

“Oh, I’m being very serious, Miss Kyle.”

 

Selina groaned, but relented, trying and failing not to be insulted when the doors locked as soon as he settled himself behind the wheel.

 

“Hey, what happened to Bruce’s car?” she asked, realising for the first time that she’d completely forgotten about it.

 

“That’s a good question,” Alfred said, “I believe the GCPD has it.”

 

“Of course. _That_ they keep track of.”

 

* * *

 

Pretty soon, it became clear that Alfred didn’t really have any idea what to do next — or, at least, that’s what Selina made out of him talking to himself and cursing the other drivers in what seemed to be a big episode of ‘road rage: gotham edition’.

 

He ended up calling Gordon and agreeing to meet him and Bullock somewhere downtown. Selina wasn’t asked what she thought of it, but didn’t complain either. It was gonna happen anyway, teaming up and finding Bruce was sort of a package deal and she knew that.

 

The same second Alfred parked the car, he jumped out of it, walking up to the dynamic duo and beginning to speak their ears off — definitely about what she’d told him and everything else he knew about Ra’s.

 

Gordon’s head turned towards the car and Selina couldn’t help but lower herself in her seat. He and Alfred started arguing for some reason — her, maybe — and Harvey threw his hands up, racing towards the car, careful not to drop his burrito. He unlocked the doors through one of the windows and sat by her side.

 

“Cat.”

 

“Hey.” Selina frowned. “Why you’re coming with us?”

 

“Our car is blocks away from here,” he said, shoving his late lunch in her face. “Want some?”

  
“Nah.”

 

“More for me.”

 

He took a huge bite out of the thing, sauce leaking into his napkin, and Selina almost smiled at his ridiculousness. Almost. Alfred and Gordon finally entered the car, though, and she leaned in between the two front seats.

 

“So, where we’re going?”

 

“To visit Barbara,” Gordon answered. He sighed and turned around to face her. “You okay?”

 

The question caught Selina off guard and she fidgeted, unsure how to react. But he was probably asking out of pure obligation, so she didn’t let it get to her.

 

“Sure,” she said. “You?”

 

“I’m hangin’.”

 

* * *

 

The Sirens’ club didn’t really have any clients before seven pm. First, because it was too expensive for chronic alcoholics. Second, because Barbara always thought most day-drinkers were depressing and kicked them out.

 

Today wasn’t any different.

 

Their group of four walked inside to Barbara cleaning the counter all alone, a big grimace on her face. She perked up some at the sight of them, though, definitely intrigued about why they were all together.

 

“Hi, Jim!”

 

“Barbara.”

 

She stared at the others but didn’t greet them, before smiling tightly at Selina. “You didn’t come home last night.”

 

Alfred scoffed. “Why could that be, I wonder?”

 

“ _Excuse me_?”

 

Gordon stepped in front of the woman, acting as a human barrier between her and Alfred. “Ra’s Al Ghul. We need you to tell us where he is.”

 

“Why?” Barbara asked. “How do you even know about him?”

 

“Because,” Selina said, “Bruce got killed last night.”

 

“Oh, I see.”

 

“Yes.” Alfred pushed Gordon brutally out of his way. “And we know bloody well that only happened because of you, so it’d be best if you cooperated.”

 

Barbara snorted. “Or else what, cupcake, you’ll arrest me?”

 

“Or else I’ll make sure you suffer a very slow, painful death, _cupcake._ ”

 

“For God’s sake,” she groaned. “I didn’t help kill the kid, why would I bother?”

 

“Wait, you didn’t?” Bullock asked.

 

“No.”

 

“Well, Tabitha did!” Selina argued. “Because _you_ got us in trouble with the League and they made her choose.”

 

“Then, that’s all on Tabby!”

 

“Yeah,” Bullock said, “Aren’t you two girlfriends?”

 

“Not anymore.” Barbara shrugged. “I dumped her.”

 

“Alright, that’s enough!” Jim yelled. “The League used Bruce to bring Ra’s back to life and that has _something_ to do with you.” He approached Barbara, towering over her intimidatingly. “What is it?”

 

“A lot of people weren’t glad he died; they wanted someone to lead them.”

 

“You.”

 

“Yes, some of them didn’t like the idea that much, though.”

 

“So,” Alfred started, “they decided to bring that bloody monster back.”

 

“I guess.”

 

“That’s how you know all of that, huh?” Harvey asked. “Lucky guess?”

 

Barbara put her hands on her waist and Selina's brain lit up.

 

It didn’t make sense for her to know why everything had happened if she didn’t know what had happened — if she didn’t know Ra’s was back. And the only way for her to know Ra’s was back without knowing the League had killed Bruce was...

 

“He was here,” Selina accused.

 

Barbara sighed. “You know, kitty, you _are_ a siren. Maybe act like such.”

 

Selina lowered her head, closing her eyes in exasperation. She never wanted it to be about sides. It hadn’t been about sides until this shitshow left her no choice but to pick one.

 

“When did Ra’s stop by?” Jim asked.

 

“At night,” Barbara whispered, “he killed the women that were following me.” She pointed to the back of the club. “Their bodies are in the supply closet, if you want to take a look.”

 

At her words, Selina took a step back and shook her head.

 

_So much crazy._

 

Gordon didn’t seem nearly as disturbed, though, and kept pushing. “Where could he be now?”

 

“Humm…”

 

“Barbara.”

 

“Fine, Jimmy, for old times sake” she agreed, “but do me a favor: _find a way to kill the bastard for me."_

 

* * *

 

There was only one place where the League hid that Barbara knew of. The Yuyan building, however that was pronounced. She wrote the address on a piece of paper and Selina went upstairs to change into her full bodysuit.

 

When she came back down, Barbara was nowhere in sight and Gordon was the only one she could find, leaning against the wall outside the bar.

 

“What happened to the others?”

 

“Don't know about Barbara,” he answered, “but Harvey went with Alfred to get our car. We might need to radio for backup.”

 

“Got it.” Selina leaned against the wall too. “Why are we going after Ra's, though?”

 

Jim glared at her.

 

“I know _why_ ,” she said, sighing, “Just— shouldn't finding the body come first?”

 

“We have people of trust looking around the city, just in case. But a cop was killed so they could take him; someone really had their reasons.”

 

Selina blinked. “You think Ra's did it.”

 

“Probably.”

 

* * *

 

“Is this the place?”

 

Alfred looked at Bullock. “How should I know?”

 

“I researched the building when we got stuck in that red light,” he said, “this is where the EMTs got you when you got stabbed the second time.”

 

“That's what happened to you last time?” Selina asked. “You got stabbed _here?_ ”

 

“Maybe, my memory of that night is not the best, I’m afraid.”

 

Gordon pulled out his gun. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that nobody gets stabbedtoday.”

 

“Well said, man.”

 

“You all got your weapons?” he asked. They each showed their hands; gun, gun, bullwhip. “Good. Harv, you stay here. If I scream, call for backup.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Fast, but quietly, they made their way through the dark street, reaching a red door with a golden dragon painted on it.

 

Alfred twisted the handle and pushed at it gently, finding out that it was already open. He let Jim and Selina go first, but soon joined them, entering a huge, windowless room. The statue of a dragon’s head was turned to face them and chinese lanterns hung from the ceiling, brightening the space, albeit poorly. Selina looked up, curious. Someone had to have lit them.

 

There was no one there, though. She couldn’t see any possible hiding spots — the place didn’t have doors connecting it to other rooms or corners for you to squeeze yourself into — and the two men pacing next to her hadn’t found anyone or anything either, just like her.

 

“Dammit,” Alfred screamed.

 

As soon as he cursed, the statue split into two and it’s pieces moved away from each other. Between them, a cloaked figure appeared. Ra’s.

 

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said, accent thick. “In my defense, I’ve been quite busy.”

 

Alfred jumped, his face going red with rage. He aimed his gun, ready to shoot. “You bloody—”

 

“Please," Ra’s started walking, one feet after the other, and Gordon growled at him.

 

“Don’t move.”

 

“You know that won’t kill me.”

 

“Yeah, but I bet it’ll hurt.”

 

“Put the gun down, Jim.” Ra’s smirked. “I understand why you are all upset.”

 

“Do you?” Selina asked, scowling.

 

She remembered how he’d stared at Bruce’s body in the church. With fondness. Sorrow. He still had that same look, if you tried hard enough to find it, and it still made her want to stab him. Ra’s was an evil freak and the way he might actually care made him more insane, in the end.

 

“I never intended for Bruce to die, I wanted him to live very long _._ The choice was taken away from me.”

 

“ _Your_ league did it,” Alfred said.

 

“Yes,” he agreed, “They acted like children and were punished accordingly.”

 

“All dead, right?”

 

“Of course not. Only the ones who had a hand in killing my heir and bringing me back to this wretched world.” Ra’s paused before he continued. “I suppose I should be grateful, though.”

 

“And why would that be, mate?”

 

“I saw a vision. Of a cataclysmic event soon to befall the city, a cleansing fire,” he said. His eyes glowed, satisfied with whatever twisted image he was picturing. “I saw Bruce and what he could become. A dark knight of Gotham.”

 

Every set of eyes in the room widened, trying to understand what Ra’s was even talking about.

 

“Isn’t it a little late for that?” Gordon asked.

 

“No, not at all.” Ra’s smiled dimly. “You see, Jim, you can come and handcuff me,” he said, offering his hands, “I’ll go willingly, like last time. And then I _will_ escape.”

 

He took a few steps forward.

 

“Or the two of you can put your pointless weapons down and, together, we’ll bring Bruce Wayne back to life.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo.... Please, don't forget to comment!


End file.
